


Change All Griefs and Quarrels into Love

by Crowgirl



Series: Welcoming Silences [41]
Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, New Jobs, Non-Chronological, Not Beta Read, Prompt Fill, Sextuple Drabble, The More Things Change..., Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5657146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompts: Lord of Misrule/kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change All Griefs and Quarrels into Love

It feels all terribly wrong and Paul doesn’t know why. Foyle hasn’t been near the station in two weeks; this morning isn’t any different.

Paul greets the constable at the desk and hangs his hat and coat on the rack inside the office door before turning to face what seems this morning like an echoing void of a room.

* * *

_‘You’ll be fine,’ Foyle said firmly, as if he could make it true by saying it with more certainty._

_‘Yes.’ Paul knew he sounded lackluster but he couldn't help it. Foyle’s suitcase is in the hall, Tweed sniffing curiously around it. He will be fine, he wasn't worried about it. He was fairly convinced that Foyle has the Hastings station running smoothly enough to do without either of them in a pinch._

* * *

Paul yanks his cuffs straight and turns to his desk, resolutely ignoring Foyle’s empty one. And he’ll have to stop thinking of the desk as being Foyle's. His new sergeant -- a young man named Elliott, transferring from a west London station -- won’t be here for another week but then the desk will be his.

* * *

_Paul cradled his tea cup and tried very hard not to feel like the heroine at the end of a romantic film being left behind by the hero as he dashes off to shoot lions or some other nonsense. It’s a ridiculous parallel anyway; he and Foyle aren’t like that -- if nothing else, they have five years of history behind them._

_He felt Foyle’s eyes on him and cleared his throat. ‘So. What do you do on your first day as a spy?’_

* * *

There’s still outstanding paperwork from the transfer and Paul works through it doggedly, interrupted only by a constable thoughtfully bringing him a cup of tea from the ten o’clock brew-up. 

* * *

_Foyle picked up his suitcase and gave Tweed a scratch behind the ears. She chirped at him and wound against his leg, pushing her head against the top of his shoe. Paul pulled his coat on and settled his scarf. The hallway was silent between them until Foyle gave a slight cough and leaned up to kiss him, a brief, warm brush of lips._

* * *

Paul goes home early -- there isn’t a lot of point in sitting around the station waiting for someone to report a crime. It isn’t as though he hasn’t got a ‘phone and the week won’t go by any faster if he chains himself to his desk. It isn’t even certain that Foyle will be able to get away from London; it’s only a possibility. 

* * *

_‘I’ll let you know about the weekend as soon as I can.’ Foyle’s hand was warm on his and Paul nodded. Foyle looked at him for a long minute, then smiled and kissed him again. ‘And stop worrying.’_

* * *

Paul stands in the kitchen for a minute and looks at the envelope on the table without being able to think intelligently about it. Tweed _chrrrr_ s impatiently at him, pawing at her food bowl, as he picks it up and pushes the flap open. Several folded sheets covered with Foyle’s neat, black handwriting fall into his hand. 

_By this time, I imagine you home for the day and Tweed already begging for her dinner. I imagine myself in some rather less than pleasant boarding house-like quarters. This is probably unfair to whatever lengths Hilda will have gone to in order to find me lodgings. However, since you will not be there, I consider them to lack the essential ingredient to make them either pleasant or home-like..._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Henry V._


End file.
